


By Your Eyes I am Known

by briaeveridian



Series: A Mythology We Weave [3]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Angst, Blind Character, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Feminism, Greek gods were pretty gross, Medusa reimagining, One True Pairing, Past Rape/Non-con, Pining, Rey POV, Slow Burn, Soft Ben Solo, blindness is a spectrum, female gaze for the win, in case this needs to be said: Ben is not the one who hurt Rey, rape trigger warning, rey blames herself, this story is all about consent, to flip/subvert the myth, victim blaming trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:26:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26062648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/briaeveridian/pseuds/briaeveridian
Summary: A re-imagined story of Medusa.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: A Mythology We Weave [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918027
Comments: 28
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to give another warning about the reference to the rape of Medusa. I don't depict that in the story but Rey does remember it briefly. And the violence of the act is part of the story. Also, there is a heavy amount of self victim-blaming. Rey repeatedly thinks that what happened was her fault. 
> 
> I am not a survivor of this kind of violence. It is my goal to hold empathetic space for this experience and to pave a road for this character to heal. Please know I am doing so with the utmost intention and care. And I am here to talk, whether it is to discuss how I can do something better in the story (please tell me!) and/or listen if this story brings up feelings that need to be processed.
> 
> It is also my first time writing a blind character. I hope to render this lived experience with immense respect and thoughtfulness.

The sun is beginning its persistent streak across the water. Rey can feel its warmth. She lingers, listening to the perpetual crash of waves against jagged rocks. It is a familiar violence; sand, shell, and stone slowly, effortlessly crushed by the weight of waves.

Rey slips out of bed and moves through the room, her bare feet silent upon the floor. Through the window, a westerly wind rushes her. It smells of salt and the recent rain.

The snakes surrounding her head hiss and writhe. She smiles at them, appreciative of their companionship. They weave a halo of protection around her.

She has lived on this precipice for years. It is a place of isolation and comfort. Rey cannot imagine venturing out into the world beyond. It terrifies her. All of her needs are met here, in this quiet and vivid place upon the edge of land and sea.

This is her sanctuary and her prison. But she has chosen that.

To bolster herself, Rey must remain rooted in the present. To consider the past entails too much pain, for it involves immense suffering and violation. It still confounds her how one act of fundamental brutality holds such power over everything else.

How one can destroy and desecrate so entirely.

Rey knows it was Poseidon. She had felt him watching her when walking the beach. He was always a threat, constant but distant. Or so she ignorant assumed.

When finally he abducted her, in human form, there had been a sense of inevitability that suffocated her. An acidic murmur deep within her, _you knew this was coming and yet you did not protect yourself_. It was all the more disturbing that he took Rey to Athena’s temple for the act of defilement. 

She realized later that she had been used, not only for this _god’s_ physical needs but for other ends, as well. Something she could not understand, had nothing to do with. It increased the all-encompassing sense of powerlessness.

The wounds have still not fully healed. But the defenses Athena bestowed upon her have helped, over the years. In that moment she almost smiles, a thin sliver of appreciation running through her.

As Rey prepares breakfast, she recalls the last of the men who dared come to her home. Of the way they wanted to possess her. How, when she looked at them, they became dead hardened things that she pushed over the cliff, straining and cackling. Rey watched each one shatter far below, reveled in their obliteration.

After everything, at least she now has some respite. 

The day spreads out in front of her and she wonders how to fill it. Checking her stores, it’s clear she needs to fish. _I need to forage, as well_ , she thinks absently,

One of her favorite activities is scouring the landscape for sustenance. It requires stealth, skill, and patience. And Rey lacks none of these.

Nibbling on a slice of smoked fish and tossing a few berries into her mouth, Rey looks out the window across the ocean. She used to imagine setting sail, letting the wind dictate her course. It was a child’s idea that _maybe if I go searching I will find my family_.

Even as a child, Rey knew it made more sense to stay put. To let them find her.

Tears prick at the corners of her eyes at the memory. A ragged breath escapes her. The snakes nestle close.

Thinking of her family always stings.

Or more accurately, the _absence_ of family. How she, abandoned so young, longed for someone to return for her. To know that someone, anyone, cared for her.

As she shakes her head to release the melancholic thoughts, the snakes tickle her temples, cheeks. They gently touch her forehead to say she is not alone.

With a grim smile, she prepares to go fishing.

* * *

Though the ocean once held possibility, now it holds danger. 

Rey does not venture far into the waves to catch her food. When the tide recedes, a pool of fish always remains, jumping and wriggling. So easy to capture. It almost seems too good to be true.

Rey’s suspicions about the fish are intense but fuzzy. She does not know who or what. Most especially, she cannot fathom _why_. Perhaps it is Athena, forcing Poseidon to make amends for his act of savagery. Perhaps it is just luck. Consistent, baffling luck. A force itself deciding she should continue living.

As unsettling as the ocean is, Rey will not leave it. Here, she faces her fear. This is the point of confrontation, of defiance. _You will not break me as you break water upon land. I am stronger than you know_.

And of course, it is the last place she saw her parents. 

The memory is stark, distinct; their ship swiftly departing across the waves, sails a trembling blur. Saltwater whipping Rey, sadness invading her entire being viciously. 

Rey’s snake crown hisses in protest, knowing she is letting herself dwell on the past. She attempts steadying breaths.

“Thank you. I would drown in those thoughts if I didn’t have you.” Two of the snakes closest to her face gently lower their heads. She touches each with fingertips.

Rey gathers her fish from the revealed pool, smashing each with a rock as quickly as she can. Then, placing them into her bag, Rey straightens and stares at the cliff above. 

Her house is visible from here, starkly outlined upon the morning sky. It looks lonely, this structure, with no trees or vegetation around it. She wonders briefly if she should start a garden before winter comes.

Rey begins scaling the cliffs, her fish bag strapped across her back. It takes time and effort to climb. But she relishes the exertion.

Back on level ground, Rey prepares the fire to smoke her catch. Once that is complete, she will set out to gather what she can. _Always so much to do, just to keep on living_.

It’s mid-morning and a sheen adorns her forehead. The fire is crackling. A pile of fish entrails fill a bucket near her foot. She impatiently rubs her arm on her face, imagining she is moving sticky hair from her eyes. The snakes surge to her arm, cuddling for a moment. 

Cleaning the fish is revolting. Rey can push herself through it because she knows the pangs of hunger, wicked and enduring. She finds it best to attempt a meditative state but rarely does it work.

A bird shrieks overhead. It startles her and the snakes hiss. They settle rapidly, creating a hum around her.

There was a period of time when Rey loathed what Athena had given her. It felt as though her head was constantly moving, shifting, shuddering. The creatures were alien to her being, yet suddenly entwined. Even more, the snakes seemed like a continuation of her violation. She had not agreed to it, had only woken to her new state of existence.

Rey had known little agency or control for most of her life. Resentment, anger, and disgust swelled within her at the realization her hair was gone, replaced. Horror had mounted with a vengeance. There were more emotions than words could encapsulate, let alone organized or understood. 

Rey had to once again decipher a new way to place herself in the world. Her parents had abandoned her. Her body had been stolen for a time. And now she was inhabited by magical creatures that could read her thoughts, sense her feelings.

After months, Rey began to accept the snakes. It took seeing how they protected her, how they could help turn men to stone with a look, that she appreciated them. They become part of her, not just necessary to survive but a key tool to thrive. 

Rey had carved out her world, working toward an image of security, self-reliance, and perhaps one day, family. It seemed like more childish naive. But she clung to it.

Her life had been a series of breakdowns, of disassemblings. After each one, Rey decided to rise. To focus on the something worth staying alive for.

She hasn’t found it yet. 

The snakes shake their disagreement. But they settle rapidly. They know how complex these feelings are, how contorted by time and isolation they become.

Rey straightens and walks to the water bucket. Plunging her hands in, she scrubs away what remains of the fish. She tosses the offal bucket downwind of her home for the scavenger bird. Rey checks the fire, then fully washes her hands with soap.

 _Soap is a marvelous thing_ , Rey thinks for the hundredth time. It cleans and soothes, abrases and removes. She loves making soap (after the fish oil has been distilled, that is). Often, Rey will find herself singing while preparing the mixture and forming the bars. It rejuvenates her as few other things can.

The wind picks up and Rey coughs. The fish stench has infiltrated everything, she realizes with a grimace. She decides it is the perfect day for a bath and clothes washing in the river that runs just over the hill. 

Once the fish are finished smoking, Rey gathers and brings them to her dark storage room. She places them in clay bowls on the shelves. Glancing over her reserves, she notices that there is a lot of preparation required before the oncoming cold season. It concerns her somewhat but she shifts her mindset to one of focus and resolution. This mental strength is how she has survived such a life.

Peeking her head outside, she notices that it is after lunch already. Quickly, she grabs a handful of nuts, a clean pair of clothes, a scavenging bag, and her soap. Then sets out to bathe and find sufficient food for the next handful of days.

Sunlight warms her living hair, each one mewling contentedly. She heads for the river and the peace of the landscape percolates into her body. Her ears are met with the gurgling of the rushing water. It is a peaceful scene.

Rey undresses quickly to soak her clothes. She ropes them to the rock, letting the current beat the stench out. Then she lays back naked, her snake crown writhing happily on the soft, warm grass. Clouds above her chase one another, darting across the brilliant blue expanse. 

Though she is vulnerable, there is a sense of relief. Rey relaxes further, all of her muscles unwinding. She gently pats the snakes around her face, exhaling...

After a time, she awakes. The sun has drifted down the western sphere of sky and she can tell her skin shows signs of burn. It will hurt tomorrow.

She leaps up, looking around, astounded she could let this happen. Rey cannot tell if it was a noise that woke her or something else. There is no one in sight.

_You are inviting violence with your lack of awareness. Do you care about yourself at all? This is how it happened before..._

The snakes squirm around her, trying to silence her internal barrage. Her jaw is set as she soaps her wet clothes. Hurriedly, she throws herself into the water, washing her skin. As fast as she can manage, Rey is out of the river and in dry clothes.

Her heart has started to slow now that she feels less exposed. But she cannot shake the feeling that someone or something is nearby. The closest snakes to eye level duck close to her face, cautious and warning.

Rey knows if she does not investigate she will not sleep well for days. The dread of someone close by is almost overpowering. That leaves but one option.

She stashes her bag of items near the river and pauses, unsure where to start. There is a strange pull to the north. Without any other clues, she starts to walk in that direction, jaw set. Rey has always had mostly reliable instincts. She notices the fierce sense of determination to combat her recent lapse in self-preservation growing in the pit of her stomach.

As Rey mounts the small hill she lowers her body, hovering above the ground. The wind picks up and she hears something. Strings, perhaps. And a voice, clearly male, singing.

Her body instantly freezes as shards of terror pierce her heart. The serpents move in unison, preparing to attack. Rey settles them with a thought. _It is better to remain hidden as long as we can_ , she reminds them.

After a silent stretch, Rey’s curiosity grows. She cannot see anyone yet, so she chances investigating further. Dashing down the hill, she aims for a tree that stands closer to the next bluff. Rey gasps when she reaches it.

The man is to the left of the tree, some distance off. He is tall with dark hair, his body strong. _Definitely a threat_ , Rey thinks. And yet she does not run away.

There are a small structure and a chair, a fire, and spit. _Why is this man here, this far from the village_? She knows that stories of her skills are widespread after the handful of deaths.

Perhaps he is simply passing through. Perhaps he will be gone soon.

He sits, playing a stringed instrument and singing to himself. The song is beautiful. Striking. Rey cannot remember the last time she heard music. It stirs something in her.

The snakes all hiss their warnings. For once, she ignores them entirely.

The man stills for a moment as if the wind has changed and carried their rustlings in his direction. The man stands and Rey tenses, preparing to run.

“Hello?” His voice is deep and friendly. “Is someone there?” The man steps away from his chair slowly. Rey inhales sharply.

Something about the way he moves entrances her. There is an assurance of body but his head does not shift with the rest of him. His eyes do not lead his actions.

He sits back down, feeling for the instrument he’d placed on the ground. He does not use his eyes.

Rey realizes with a start. _He is blind_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I wanted to explore the feminist retelling of the Medusa story: instead of Athena being jealous and punishing Medusa, Athena gives Medusa the power to kill men to protect herself. To destroy the male gaze entirely. I initially thought about doing a genderbend of this myth but decided that this modern perspective of the story is pretty subversive already.
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](https://myheartandsolo.tumblr.com/) where my AD/SW obsession lives aggressively.


	2. Chapter 2

Rey rushes home, the snakes an anxious cloud around her as she sprints. Rapidly snatching her bag left at the river, she winces from the stitch already in her side. _I need to run more often. It shouldn’t hurt like this after such a short distance_.

Her heart is beating viciously, trapped waves sped up and condensed inside a human body. 

She has never encountered a blind person. _Could he be immune to my defenses_? A shudder ripples through her. Weary lungs reject her demands for increased air.

Collapsing behind the closed door, Rey breathes raggedly. The snakes move en masse, desperate for her to calm. They twitter that she should have listened to their warnings.

Rey gestures them off after a moment. She continues to take deep breaths, her heart beginning to slow. However, the worries about the situation further harden. _What if he stays here? What will I do? What if he has a plan to hurt me?_

Through the torrent of thoughts, his voice remains in her ears, gentle and consoling. The music nearly wafts through the very space she inhabits. _Is he what I was drawn toward? But why? It is a trap?_

She has never associated such softness with a man. In fact, she had never even thought it possible. Despite his size, he looked gentle. The way he cradled the instrument. How his voice carried on the wind.

Rey realizes she cannot recall her own father’s temperament. Perhaps he too was gentle. Or perhaps not.

Raising from the floor, she pulls a plate from the shelf and some food. The entire day has been exhausting. Even her bones seem leaden, heavy.

Her companions are weaving around her, humming their usual evening melody. When Rey first realized the snakes wanted to comfort her, she was shocked. Now, she is grateful.

Soon, Rey finds herself stumbling to bed. The sun is still up but she cannot fight her tiredness any longer. Stripping to her undergarments and without putting sleeping clothes on, she falls upon the blankets. Surrounding her head is a loose tangle of scales and sinew.

* * *

_Rey stands on a hill, surrounded by a glow of yellow flowers. They wave in the wind, mimicking the movement of her snake crown. Fresh wind brings the blossom smell to her nose and she inhales. A joy bubbles through her._

_A man stands in the field. He is still, tranquil. A smile decorates his handsome face and his eyes are trained on the sun above their heads._

_Rey speaks but cannot hear herself. The man turns in her direction. He suddenly covers his face with his large hands, as if Rey herself is the source of light. A laugh erupts from within him, deep and joyous._

_All at once, he is in front of her. She can count the moles of his face. Rey is seized by a sense of familiarity. He doesn’t move to touch her. He is waiting but she does not speak again._

_“I am here. When you’re ready, I am here.” And he vanishes._

Rey jumps awake, snakes whooshing around her apprehensively.

“What in all the worlds was _that_ ,” she says, voice louder than she intended. Her head is light, a flurry of thoughts chasing each other. 

In the dream, his face was more detailed than she could possibly have observed in person. And yet, he felt real. Concrete. He was a firm presence.

Rey slips out of bed, disturbed by the dream. The sun won’t rise for some time. But she is too restless to sleep

Though not a nightmare, it is unwelcome. Rey will not allow men to taint anything in her life, especially the very act of sleep. It feels insidious.

Or, perhaps, she is overreacting. Because her impulse for so long has been revulsion at the mere existence of men. Under the initial shock, Rey senses a glimmer curiosity, a tinge of excitement.

Perhaps she is meant to know this man.

Her circle of snakes boils, horrified by the thought. With an exasperated shrug, Rey decides the first thing she needs to do is eat.

In a bowl, she places the last of her dried berries and nuts. She didn’t get to forage yesterday. Regardless of the proximity of the man she needs to restock her shelves. Perhaps she would be able to catch a glimpse of him, try to learn more about him.

The snakes vibrate their disapproval again. _If time allows, of course. I’ll take care today, you can trust me_. She can tell they don’t believe her.

Over her breakfast, Rey watches the sun erupt from the ocean. Light spews in an arc, shattering upon the surface of the water. It spreads out slowly, in no rush to travel the sky. 

As its light reaches her, Rey feels brave. Capable. Ready. 

She packs her knife and rope, the last of her older smoked fish, and a poncho. Something about the sky suggests rain and she always believes such signs.

Usually, she doesn’t go foraging this early in the day. Too many shadows remain. But her whole body is rigid with anticipation. And, strangely, _impatience_. Nothing about her life has caused impatience in many years. It is more thrilling than she would care to admit.

Reaching the river, Rey pauses to fill her canteen, wash her face, and drink deeply. The cold water slides down her throat, sharp and invigorating. She wonders if the man has enough water or if he has trouble collecting.

 _He has survived this long in life. He can take care of himself. Simply because he cannot see as you do, does not mean he is helpless_. Rey feels a surprising camaraderie, thinking of this man forging his own path and taking care of himself. She smiles, in spite of the snakes spitting around her.

Though she wants to go north again, she focuses on the true task at hand: gathering food for the coming days. The sneaks are almost strong enough to turn her head to the woods, setting the direction. 

_I’m the one in control, here. You do not get to dictate these things,_ she tells them gently. _But you’re right, we’ll complete this task first_. Quickening the pace, her feet venture between the trees silently.

Rey’s eyes adjust easily to the darkened space. She speeds in the direction of the mushrooms she located last time, paths well worn and intimately recognized. Some edible flowers bloom by one of her favorite trees. Its limbs reach fervently beyond the dense world of the forest. 

She scrapes some of the inner bark from a youth tree that has already been chewed on by a four-legged animal. Nearby, a bush offers some of the last berries of the season. She will miss the luscious beads of juice when cooler winds arrive.

Already her bag is half-full. This season is generous, reliable. Rey dreads the inevitable shift.

After more handfuls of various foods, she cannot distract herself from the man anymore. She has to know more. It is a yearning that astounds her. It could promise danger. And yet, it could provide something else, too.

A spark of hope tickles her, a long-lost memory resurging in a part of a dormant brain. The snakes try a different tactic of refusal to interact with her. They know she has already made up her mind and to argue is useless. But they still must make their position on the subject known.

Rey sets off on a different route. She’s experiencing a baffling warring of emotions, both tentative and eager. A plan begins to formulate; to see his campsite from a different angle, closer, but protected by more foliage. 

She already fully comprehends he is the man from her dream without needing to see his face. Even so. _Better to be sure_.

The sun has leaped higher during her time in the woods. A dark cloud bank looms to the east. Rey wonders how long she has before it will unleash the downpour.

Cresting a hill near his camp, she has to stop and breathe. It feels as though a thread has wrapped itself around her chest, winding its way up onto her shoulders, tightening but not hurting. She sees nothing when she looks at herself. The snakes bob against her forehead, tongues flicking upon her skin.

Rey sets her jaw and descends the hill.

No music greets her today, only a crackle of fire. Rey crouches low behind a bush, peering through the deep green leaves. The man is not visible. A tiny splinter of dread creeps into her.

Raising her head a bit, there is still no sign of him. She waits, thinking he will walk out of the tent. There is no human presence. 

She makes sure her steps are silent as she walks forward, stalking until she is within feet of the fire. A bowl hangs there with a liquid that is beginning to bubble. It smells amazing. 

Rey has no interest in cooking. She is rather unambitious when it comes to food and has very low expectations. But this ignites her appetite.

With lightning-fast movements, Rey darts a look into the tent. It is as empty as she thought it would be, housing a simple padded bed and a box. She straightens, releasing her stealth pose. A surprising disappointment nestles within her, deep and solid.

For the first time in a while, her crown of serpents hiss, relief at the situation and disapproval for Rey’s regret. _I know, you do not trust him at all. But there is something about this that I have to comprehend. As frightening as it is_. She raises both hands to pet the myriad heads enshrining her own.

With a jolt, Rey realizes he could be back at any moment. She dashes to the tree where she hid the previous day. After multiple silent beats and no mysterious man, she cautiously mounts the hill, heading back along the river route. When she is at its apex, her heart seizes.

She can see him crouching beside the river. _Strange to see him gathering water right after I wondered about it_. Another thought quickly follows. _Do not be ridiculous. Of course he needs water every day_. 

To her embarrassment, Rey notices the arch of his back, the cascade of his hair. His arms are reaching into the water, knees bent. From here, she can catch a glimmer of an ear through the black tresses. Each detail she notes keenly.

Never has she observed the physicality of a man in this way. It distresses her as well as the snakes, but they remain quiet. She sends them a sincere _thank you_..

The clouds rumble their approach and the man shifts upwards immediately. He is holding a jug attached to a rope. He leans over to grasp for a stick. Then he begins to walk directly toward her.

Rey balks. She is standing in the open, a shape against the clouds. Though he may not be able to fully perceive her visually, Rey still wants to hide. Without further thought, she dashes back down the hill to avoid crossing paths with him. She shakes as if already drenched in rain.

He crests the hill and she gazes at the man. His strides are confident and long. The jug bounces on his chest with each step. His chin has the shadow of a beard. 

Shifting around the tree, Rey watches him pass. She holds her breath. It is a rare thing to see another person up close. Let alone a man.

He returns to his fire and stirs the pot. Then he adds some water, tasting it. She hears him grunt in satisfaction and a blush burns her cheeks.

The snakes are still hushed, unmoving. They want her to leave. They want to never see him again.

Something inside Rey is growing, sparking. It makes her reckless. 

The man disappears into his tent and reemerges seconds later. He’s holding a couple of bowls and ladles soup into both. Rey smells his concoction again and must bite her lip to stop the reactionary sound of interest. She imagines her mouth is watering.

“You’re welcome to join me. I made plenty.”

Rey falls backward from the shock. The snakes shoot up vertically, trying to pull her back to a position of attack. Her legs refuse to move for a moment as fragments of breath rip through her chest. With heart beating faster than should be possible, Rey finally succeeds in standing.

She presses her lips together, unsure of what to do. The snakes tell her _run_ but she cannot. Will not. Rey decides to trust the pull toward him.

“I walked right past you. I know you are there. I mean you no harm if you feel comfortable believing me.” His voice is melodious, not as deep as it could have been coming from such a large body. It rumbles but does not communicate menace.

Rey opens her mouth but without the ability to find words, she shuts it again.

“If you’d like, I can bring a bowl closer. That way you can retrieve it at your own pace.”

She finds his consideration and generosity confounding. Other than Athena’s convoluted gift, has anyone ever been kind to her? Has anything thought about her instead of themselves in her entire life?

More silence coalesces between them.

“Who are you?” Rey finally shouts. She learned long ago that volume is a successful way to cover nervousness. He sits down in his chair and takes a bite.

“My name is Ben. I’m sorry to be rude. I haven’t eaten yet today.” He takes three bites rapidly. She imagines it would be more effective for him to simply gulp the soup. 

A sudden step and she is closer to him.

“It is alright.” 

“Do you want some?” His face is tilted slightly below where she stands.

“I won’t take your food. I have plenty.” Regret pools within her. But it does not seem appropriate, however many times he seems to offer. He takes more bites, waiting for her to speak.

A quiet rests between them, not uncomfortable or awkward. Rey steps forward again. At this distance, his face has become clearer. The invisible pull to him intensifies.

“Are you blind?” she asks, more bluntly that she intended. She winces. He does not.

“Yes.” He lifts his head in her direction for a moment. Then continues eating.

It hits her for the first time. His face is directed at her taking in some degree of her presence. She realizes she was gambling with his life by looking at him this way. Thick ribbons of anger roil within her at such thoughtlessness. _I would never forgive myself if I killed this man_. The thought itself is breathtaking.

“How do you take care of yourself without sight?” Whatever social skills Rey once had have clearly evaporated over the years of isolation. He is not offended.

“I have lived my whole life this way. And I can see swaths of light, smears of color. You, for instance, are very bright. It...” he catches himself, embarrassed. He settles farther into his chair and chews several bites at once. Rey walks closer than she meant to, closing the last gap. 

“What?”

“You radiate.”

If her snakes could glower, they would be right now. She easily ignores them.

Rey’s not sure what is happening inside her chest. But it’s dramatic. His face is quirked slightly as his fingers run through his hair.

“Hopefully that’s not too forward…” He stops talking to shovel more soup into his mouth. Rey watches him over the firepit. The way his lips grip the spoon is entirely enthralling to witness. She has stopped breathing.

To her utter shock, Rey contributes information.

“My name is Rey.” 

He straightens, a shy smile on his face.

“Well, that is appropriate.” Setting his bowl down, he takes a couple of tentative steps and reaches his hand out in greeting. Then waits for her to take it or reject it. Rey is soothed that he is giving her full control of this encounter. It is a new feeling.

The snakes hiss their agitation and he jumps back, eyes wide with fear.

Rey surges forward without thinking, reaching for his hands to reassure him. When she touches him, the string within her chest tugs. Tears spring to her eyes unexpectedly. Heat blossoms where their skin overlaps.

“I’m sorry. They are wary of men.” _Now that is quite the understatement_. To continue the string of baffling occurrences, Rey laughs. The sound makes her shoulders tense and she clamps her mouth shut. But it seems to ease Ben. His fingers wrap around her arms, easily encircling the entirety of her wrist as he straightens again.

“Are they yours?” he asks simply. Rey pulls out of his grip instinctively. His fingers release her at once.

“Uh, yes.” 

She feels a flood of gratitude that he does not press for more information.

Lightning crashes against the sky above them. Neither of them reacts, despite the power of it. They stand in front of each other. The echoing thunder tells Rey the storm is imminent.

“I should go home.”

“I don’t know where you live. But it seems unlikely you will make it.” He pauses, cheeks turning a delicate shade of magenta. “If you feel safe, you can stay here,” Ben says, gesturing to the tent. 

It’s small, cramped, dangerous. _Some men are capable of feigning kindness as a trap_. All of her warning bells ring at once as the snakes rear backward at the suggestion.

She sees him tense at the sound briefly. It hurts when she realizes the singular acceptable response to his invitation. Squaring her shoulders, she levels her voice.

“No, I will be fine.” Rey’s backing away, all of her muscles taught, throat closing. For a moment it looks he Ben is going to protest. Then his face falls.

“Will you visit again?”

Her eyes are swimming as the winds pick up. She clenches her jaw, trying to memorize his expression. It’s tender, nervous, honest. He is a flood of vulnerability. It is too much.

Rey turns and runs, her snake hair thrashing in the storm wind.


	3. Chapter 3

Rey does not leave her house for days.

The storm is an easy excuse. It splits the sky and sends sheets of icy rain to the ground. Streams form, cutting Rey’s home off from the surrounding area. 

She becomes an island suspended between ocean and land.

Through the window, Rey sees sky and sea merge as one tumultuous roiling thing. Water overtakes her world. It becomes the substance of her days. 

There are leaks in the roof that bother her. And floodwater hints at encroaching, as well. _Everything feels submerged_.

There is rarely a moment that Rey does not find herself wondering how the man is dealing with the storm. There is no chance his flimsy shelter can shield him from this onslaught. She worries about him more than she feels comfortable acknowledging.

Looking at her stores, Rey is grateful she made sure to gather sufficient food that second day she saw him. During her rabid run home, a few things were jostled from her unfastened bag, but the loss was limited. Rey has at least two more days of supplies before she will run out of food.

This storm is not what she expected. It is the worst she can recall, in fact. Though it is the start of the wet season, it is abnormal to receive such a deluge all at once. 

Rey wonders if it is a message from the gods. 

She scoffs and wrinkles her brow in disgust. _The gods have no message for me, and if they did, I would tell them where to put it_. 

The snakes tire of the storm. They hang languidly around her, _similar to soggy hair_ , she thinks with a smirk. The snakes close to her face hiss immediately. They always complain when she remembers the hair that existed before they did.

Internally, Rey exaggerates the amount that she wishes the man has moved on. Just as secretly she hopes he has stayed. The weather rages as her emotions do, wild and ragged.

Rey has held his name in her mind unwilling to form the word. Instead, she makes a mental nest around it, intending to keep in unbroken for as long as possible. The thought of voicing it scares her. Like speaking a spell without knowing what shape the resulting magic would take.

It all scares her. From the pull toward him to the comfort of his presence. _The tremor in his voice when he asked if I would return_.

No one ever wanted to see her again, not really. She has never been considered more than in passing. With little else to occupy her mind, she chews on the thought, finally concluding that he was simply being polite.

 _He probably has already forgotten about me_. Her chin shakes as she closes her eyes. The snakes mew comfortingly.

Each night more dreams descend, offering a soothing escape to an alternate world. Where she does not feel broken, fractured by the cruelty of her waking one. Where she can trust him utterly, without fear or uncertainty.

These dreams leave her weeping, tears to match the relentless rain. She avoids sleep as long as she can but eventually submits from exhaustion. Even the sweetest of these dreams turn sour in the morning.

There is at least a rhythm to this existence. Dreams and tears, eating from necessity, watching the soil erode slowly around her. Rey finds solace in the days. There is regularity, which means no surprises. Everything can be planned for.

Despite this, she craves the thrill of seeing him again.

* * *

Peering out the window, Rey spots a lightening in the clouds. She feels her brow relax and the snakes jigging their excitement. It’s been four days and she is ready to venture out. 

_Not to see him_ , she reminds herself. It is still too soon for that. Or perhaps she is thinking that to console her ward of serpents.

The chill of the day surprises her. She clutches a heavy shawl around her shoulders. With each step, the ground squelches. The air itself is still laden with moisture. Rey hops the rivulets that bisect the landscape, her mood improving already. 

Though it is afternoon, Rey must restock her reserves. Tomorrow she will have to gather more fish, as well. She groans at the thought.

Venturing into the woody cathedral, Rey is bombarded by the sounds of life. Birds are trumpeting their excitement to have a break from the storm. Frogs are croaking incessantly, rich gurgling belches that sound almost human. Squirrels race along the limbs above her, chittering together. 

It makes her smile to see such a robust display after her monotonous solitude.

Her yield mimics the bounty of the forest. When her bag is full, Rey turns around to gaze once more upon the intricate web of relationships and species. Strangely, she is jealous she does not have a place in a larger whole. No one to help celebrate the simple beauty of this place.

The thought turns into a truer and more physical want. That she _wants him_ and his voice, his shyness, his smile. And most of all, she wants to know his heart. Her eyes grow wide, struck by the wonder of it.

The snakes begin a steady percussion, smacking lips in their peculiar way. She knows what it means. They want her to have that, too.

 _Should we check on him_? she asks hesitantly. One small head bounces into her cheek in affirmation. Rey’s mouth quirks and she closes her eyes for a moment.

When she opens them again, her feet are already moving.

This route is shorter in distance than the river route but it takes longer because Rey has to navigate the thick vegetation. She is almost humming as she weaves between twigs, trunks, boulders. Bending low under branches, hopping over logs. The air is pungent, layered, and earthy.

Free of the trees Rey breaks into a run, darting between bushes. The full bag hits her thigh and the shawl dances behind her. She comes to a halt when her eyes fall on his camp.

The tent is a pile on the ground. His bowl is gone, the pot on the ground, and the spit a mess. The chair has fallen over and if it’s in one piece Rey will be surprised. _At least these things were not washed away. But where is he_?

Rey rights the chair and it stands but will not hold weight. She sets the bag and shawl on it. Without knowing what else to do, Rey picks up his tent and attempts to reassemble it. There are rips in the thick fabric and it is muddy. If it were earlier in the day she would take it to the river and clean it, then let it dry in the sun. Because it’s getting late, it will have to do. 

Inside the tent, she finds a blanket that is soggy. But his box and instrument are gone. It looks like he left in a hurry. She quickly hangs the blanket on a tree branch, hoping the last of the sun’s rays can dry it somewhat.

 _I hope he comes back_. The sheer magnitude of that feeling nearly knocks her over. 

She cares for him. Somehow, inexplicably, she has grown fond of this stranger. With his soft voice and persistent thoughtfulness. The way he described her, _bright_ , a source of warmth and light. No one has ever felt such things about her. The words themselves are a gift.

She needs him to return soon. The sky has cleared and the sun is starting to fade. It is not safe for anyone, sighted or not, to be out at night.

The tent is up after much effort. Rey’s snakes whistle as she works. She is relieved they are encouraging, supportive after so many days of dissent. It would be hard to live a life her protectors did not approve of. 

Rey rearranges the pit and starts a fire, which helps push back the darkness. _Maybe he will be able to sense the firelight amongst the shadows_. 

Her head darts around her often, envisioning his return. She barely nibbles on things from her forager bag, anxiety outweighing her appetite.

Darkness falls completely and Rey is alone. She has lingered too long. Fear takes her and the snakes once again rally their forces. It is dangerous to be here.

When the moon rises, Rey stomps out the fire. She huddles inside the dilapidated tent. _He is gone_. The pain associated with that awareness is more intense than her fear.

She and the snakes grow still. Hunched within the shadows of the tent, Rey tries to keep herself awake. _Too dangerous to sleep_ she thinks, grinding her teeth. 

A chill has settled over everything. It’s a coldness that matches the frozen knowledge inside her. That she is foolish. That she will be alone for the rest of her life. That she missed him, the one man who she could love. 

_Who I could love_.

The realization is a physical wound. It stings and bleeds. She collapses on the ground, snakes in turmoil around her. This was her last chance, her last hope. To know someone who she didn’t need to defend herself against, someone who could accept her, know her. To lose him just as quickly brings an exquisite wave of sadness. She cries into the mud, growing colder as each minute scrapes by.

Rey cannot tell how much time has passed when a noise makes her jump, a rustling movement outside the tent. Her exhaustion and misery are forgotten immediately.

Alert and terrified at once, Rey holds her breath. Each snake is coiled near her head ready to strike. An energy is building within her limbs. She knows she will have to confront this threat head-on, as she has countless times before.

Rising to stand Rey moves to the door of the tent. The muffled sound is getting louder. It has not surpassed the volume of her beating heart.

In the weak moonlight, she sees an outline of a form approaching. Rey inhales sharply and moves to face it. The snakes vibrate with agitation.

Words come in a rush.

“Rey? Is that you?” His voice is relieved, surprised. He takes the last steps quickly and comes close to her. She hears his stick hit the ground. The snakes relax slightly but hold their poses, feeling Rey’s upheaval.

She remains rooted in place and breathing becomes a chore. Her fingernails bite the skin of her palms. 

It is too dark to see his face and he is too close. It’s as though she is experiencing everything from a great distance. She makes her mouth form words.

“I waited for you.”

Ben’s dark form visibly deflates. Rey steps back, unsure of his reaction.

“I did not think you would return.” His voice is wrecked. She notices that his arms are moving as if fighting with himself. “If I had known, I would have come back earlier. I would have been here for you.” She can feel his disappointment and anger toward himself. It’s palpable as it courses through her. 

Rey’s own frustrations and sadness lessen. But decades of learned fear still grips her.

“Of all the times in my life, I’ve never felt so alone.”

“You’re not alone.” The words are a stunning rush of emotion. With Ben’s focus back on her, his tone is soft again. He steps forward and Rey does not withdraw. He seems to pour feelings into her. Feelings she can’t name. Powerful, enveloping, and sincere.

Rey fumbles through another breath. Then steadies herself. _This is what you want. Is it not_? The snakes press into her scalp, tingling and reassuring. 

“Neither are you.”

Something possesses Rey that she cannot fathom. She reaches forward and takes his hand. He trembles under her touch.

“Where did you go?”

“The storm was too much. I went to the woods to find someplace dry. I was not very successful.” 

“Ben.” It’s the first time she has said his name. Her mouth curves around the sound. He takes a quick breath. “I’m sorry. I do not trust easily.”

“I understand.”

Rey takes his other hand gingerly. She does not recognize herself at this moment. But she recognizes Ben in a fundamental way, and that is enough.

“I thought this was too much to hope for. As everything beautiful has been in my life,” he says quietly. 

“Nothing about me is beautiful. Have you not heard the stories? Aren’t you afraid?” 

“Some stories. But the snakehaired woman never struck me as ugly or scary. She always seemed fierce, strong. I admired her independence. Maybe even coveted her power.” Ben pauses.

Rey listens intently, fascinated to know his mind. 

“It seems as though there is loneliness associated with such an existence. And things I cannot begin to imagine. But your ability to protect yourself is beautiful.” Ben raises a hand and Rey steps into it. His fingertips trace her cheek gently. _And you are beautiful_ she hears him think. “If you need it to be said aloud, those men deserved their fates.”

Once again, this man has astounded her. She wants to trust him like hunger pangs, sharp and urgent and crucial to survival. It swipes the breath from her chest, leaving a concave space to her to grasp at.

Even still, Rey sees the deep seed of fear still nestled within her. It has hardened over many years, growing denser and harder. But _maybe if I coax the seed it will grow into something more fulfilling than fear_? Her breath returns aggressively, slamming into her lungs and she gasps.

She knows she must say something. So her reptilian brain takes over before she can stop herself.

“I will not give you what you want.”

“What is it that you think I want?” His voice is barely audible.

Rey doesn’t respond at first, working her lips anxiously. 

“My body. My submission. It is what all men want. All men I have met.” Regret hits her as soon as the words crest the air between them.

He startles so dramatically she can see it in the dark. “Your body is yours alone. And it is an unknown thing to me. I do not want the unknown. Your soul is what I feel, what pulls me toward you. It is… something I feel I know already.” Ben’s limbs fall abruptly and he steps back.

He has said more than he intended to. Rey _perceives_ his agitation as if it is her own.

“I’m sorry. I have no right to say such things.” He is moving away from her and it ignites a feeling that Rey recognizes all too well.

“Wait.” She grabs for his arm and misses. “Please. Don’t leave.” Rey’s voice cracks as tears erupt from her eyes. She sinks to the ground, awash in despair. “That you came back at all…” she is mumbling, gasping for air. “No one has ever…” 

At once, Ben is beside her, firm hands on her upper arms. He is breathing erratically as if to match hers. As if the emotions flow between them in equal measure.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers feverishly. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Rey’s arms wrap around him and she buries her sodden face in his shoulder. His heat is all around. The comfort of his embrace stills the ripples of her mind and heart. 

They hold each other for several minutes, the distant moonlight painting them a silver glow. Rey’s serpents keep away from Ben’s face to avoid overwhelming him. Their thoughtfulness warms her further, despite the cool air.

When sadness finally ebbs a trickle of happiness takes its place. Foreign and tantalizing, it plucks the body and makes her soul sing. The murmur of joy equalizes between them as she matches his breathing.

She can tell he is smiling. The pure pleasure of it touches her. She wonders how it must feel to hug someone with a scalp covered in snakes.

“It tickles,” he replies and laughs quietly. His amusement bounces around them in the dark. Rey leans back and joins him, releasing the last of the tension curled within her. 

The stars wink above them, hushed and lucent. The wind picks up and they shiver. Ben has a thought he does not voice. Rey says it for him.

“We should lay down. It is late.” To say these words is the start of something new. A hesitant smile drifts over Rey’s face.

“I will sleep well away, so you are comfortable.” His face is close to hers. She can feel his breath. Shaking her head, Rey takes Ben’s hand.

“Not too far away. Let me check to see if the blanket is dry. I have my shawl, too. I think we will be comfortable enough.” 

He huffs a little sound. “I’ll make a fire.”

Rey is not sure if that’s a good idea. But after a moment’s thought, it occurs to her that she feels capable in Ben’s presence. He sees her strength, appreciates it, believes in it. Maybe she can borrow his confidence until she creates her own. She smiles again, though he cannot see it.

Rey retrieves the blanket and places it in front of the fire Ben is working on, hoping to remove the remaining dampness. Then she watches his features flare. He looks tired, dirty. _Sleeping in the woods must have been hard, uncomfortable_.

“Nothing I’m not used to.” He straightens quickly,, surprising Rey. Ben’s voice has regained its quiver. “Is it alright that I somehow hear your thoughts? I do not know how yet but I can find a way to not intrude on your mind-”

“It’s alright. Actually, it’s comforting. I think I let you in. When I decided to trust.” Rey stands and takes his hand. He weaves his fingers amongst hers.

Rey cannot fathom how swiftly she has changed since meeting Ben. Over a handful of days her entire being has shifted. It is impossible to grapple with, so instead she reorients on the present moment. Her snakes nod, drowsy in the fire’s rays.

They sit close together by the fire and she leans against him.

“I never thought…” She stops to inhale. Ben moves his hand in search of hers. Rey’s fingers meet them halfway. “I thought this life was little more than cruelty and pain. Abandonment, loneliness, violence, powerlessness.” He squeezes her fingers, mirroring her thoughts.

The rest of her thought floats between them, known and reciprocated. Rey’s tears pick up shards of firelight as they slide down her cheeks. When she falls asleep beside him, her heart is as warm as the embers.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is longer than usual. Whoops.

Rey opens her eyes slowly, her snakes a jumble. The coals glow faintly. The sky is just starting to brighten with the oncoming sun. Ben breathes evenly behind her. 

She turns over to look at him. He rests several inches away with an arm outstretched, a lifeline of reassurance through the dark night.

The ground is uncomfortable but she slept well enough. Her shawl retained some of the fire’s warmth. Ben had taken the damp blanket, insisting _I am quite nearly a furnace when I sleep_.

The idea of nestling close to him had made her heart seize. It was a deeply appealing image. But one she was not ready for. Sleeping alone, untouched, had meant safety for most of Rey’s life. Rey knows with a baffling certainty that this will change. And that Ben will be patient until then.

Rey cannot recall any dreams. Perhaps the emotional exhaustion turned her mind to a placid sea, unwrinkled by thoughts. Whatever the reason _it is better than any dream to wake beside him_.

The serpents turn their heads to soak up the sunbeams cascading over the hill. Rey focuses on Ben, tracing her fingers across his palm. 

He sighs, on the brink of wakefulness. Then he rolls to his back and stretches. _How can you take up so much space_? Rey thinks playfully.

He turns back to her and searches for the hand she left in the space between them.

 _I’ve always tried to make myself smaller_ , he thinks apologetically. Rey closes the gap at once, placing her hands on his chest as they lay together. She has never experienced intimacy like this, a yielding of oneself to the other. 

“No, please never do that, Ben. You are worthy and beautiful.” She kisses his cheeks, hoping he understands. Her lips are dazzled by the contact. Ben releases an almost imperceptible sound. The rough skin of his hand grazes her face. 

“People have always considered me a burden. A nuisance. Unhelpful around the house and farm. Only the animals did not mind me being nearby. Adults never taught me anything, despite my hunger to know about the world. I used to be so angry and full of contempt. That only made people hate me more. After a time, I stopped feeling things altogether. It seemed like the only way to survive. To cut myself off from the possibility of more disappointment and disapproval.” His voice further communicates the immense loss, a life full of closed doors and uncaring people. Rey clings to him. Her response is slow, deliberate. 

“I know you are capable and strong, a gifted cook, musician, singer. When I first heard your voice it was ethereal, so unlike a man but more glorious than the gods. That you have such a kind heart after such neglect is an incredible thing, Ben.” Rey brushes his hair away and leans close to his ear. “You are the only one in this world who has brought happiness to my life. And now that you are here I want you to stay forever.” Her whisper makes him shudder.

“Rey,” he begins then swallows aggressively. “I came here by chance. Wandered into this valley, tired of life in the village. I had no idea I would meet you. That I would find someone who could feel anything for me beyond disdain.” His tears pool on the bridge of his nose, dripping sideways onto the soil. 

Rey maneuvers him off the ground into a seated position. He blushes at the touch as she settles onto his lap. A hum of excitement tingles where their bodies are aligned. She places her face between his shoulder and chin.

“We have many wounds, both fresh and old, in need of healing. I want us to mend together.” Rey presses her nose against his jaw.

“Yes. I want that, too.” Shifting, Ben brings her closer. All of a sudden his energy changes. His grip tightens and he quakes. Rey feels his breathing waver. More tears descend as she holds him.

Rey runs her fingers across his collar bone. “I know it is frightening and disorienting to feel all of these emotions. And I know now the only way to release them is to feel them. I am here. You are safe, Ben.” 

The air itself seems to shrug in relief and Ben is sobbing against her. Years of suppressed fear, sadness, and anger pour out of him. He clutches at her clothes, skin making sure he is tethered. The tears percolate her shirt.

They are the eye of the storm, circled and anchored, gravity tying them together. The snakes are calm, accepting the human torrents patiently. They have experienced this wrecking discharge before. The difference now is Rey does not have to go through that alone anymore. Her halo shines appreciatively.

After a time, Rey and Ben untangle and eat a light breakfast from the forager bag. She tells him where she finds the morsels, how she preserves and cooks them. Ben is inspired by each one.

“This would add a delicious flavor to my stew,” he says while chewing on a mushroom stalk. Looking at Ben, Rey feels enthusiasm for food she has not felt for as long as she can remember.

When at last they rise, the sun resides above the eastern hill. Its light illuminates their camp. Rey notices for the first time the layer of mud that cakes Ben.

He blanches. “I’m sorry I’m so dirty…” She places a reassuring hand to his arm.

“Nothing we cannot fix. I’m sorry you had to deal with the storm all on your own.”

“I honestly wondered if it had been sent to remove me from this world. That maybe I came to this valley to die in a flood.” His voice strains under the words.

“Yet here you are. Warm and alive in my arms. More resilient than you know.” She smiles against him.

“As are you.” Ben kisses her forehead and the snakes creep forward to nuzzle him. He jumps in surprise but does not retreat. “Thank you for all you have done for Rey, little ones.” They weave and bob, mewling in reply. Ben chuckles.

The sheer magnitude of the situation dawns on Rey. _How could everything have shifted entirely over only a week_? Here is a man talking to her protectors, giving thanks, and them responding in kind. Rey closes her eyes. She focuses on Ben’s steady heartbeat as joy courses through her veins.

As they approach the river, Rey realizes Ben will have to undress to bathe. They both turn pink at the thought. Ben turns his face downward shyly.

“Uh, well, if you are comfortable here alone, I can run home to retrieve soap, a washing bag. And a sheet I suppose?” She has no spare clothes for him. Her stammering brings a hint of a grin to his lips.

“Yes, I will be fine.” Ben pulls at his shirt quickly and Rey whirls at the flash of skin. “Please hurry. Standing in the cold river does not sound appealing for long.”

“I will,” she calls back. The bloom on her cheeks has only deepened.

* * *

When Rey returns with the soap Ben is hip-deep in the river. The expanse of his shoulders strikes her. His chest is pale and wide. The arms that dangle at his sides look strong. _Good for carrying all kinds of things_.

“I heard that,” Ben calls out playfully. 

His teeth are chattering when she’s close enough to hear.

“Oh Ben, I’m sorry. Here is the soap.” Sh places the bar into his open hand. Ben grabs a hold of her for a moment, a mischievous look on his face. Rey yelps when he pretends to tug her into the river. 

“Only a jest,” Ben says as he lets go. To everyone’s utter shock (including the snakes), Rey makes an impulsive decision. She jumps into the frigid water, clothes and all. 

Gasping and hopping, Rey launches to hug Ben. He laughs. 

“You are unexpected.” His voice is warm as he pulls her in. Rey sinks into an embrace. Heat from his bare skin pricks and presses into her, vivid and comforting.

She relaxes against him and starts to tremble less. His arms link across her back. For a brief moment the cold water does not cross her mind.

Then Ben sneezes and Rey is brought back to herself.

“Let’s get you clean.”

Without realizing what she is doing Rey takes the soap and starts a lather on his chest. A strange expression comes over his face. Something positive she cannot name.

“Oh, I was not thinking. You can do that yourself, of course.” She blushes furiously and steps back. Ben’s arms dart out to her.

“If you want to, please continue.” His face is lowered, bashful. Rey comes closer.

There is so much of him before her. His chest is almost entirely free of hair. His skin is soft and untouched by sun. An undulation of muscles fascinates her. An impulse to press her lips to him grabs her. Instead, she sets her jaw and wets the soap.

Moving her fingers tentatively, Rey draws designs of white suds upon his flesh. He is hardly breathing as she dances the soap across his torso, along his arms. He bends down for her to more easily remove the mud from his neck.  
When he turns, Rey gapes at the canvass of his back. Shoulder blades as large as plates. Ribcage wide. Waist narrowing. A shift in shape where his hips start. She draws her fingers down his spine, feeling the bump of his bones. Ben breathes deeply at the pressure.

“You are forgetting the soap,” he teases softly. 

Rey jolts. “At least the sun is finally high enough,” she says to cover her embarrassment. 

She looks to the bank and notices his pile of dirty clothes. Glancing down it occurs to her how silly it was to get into the river clothed.

“Maybe…” 

“What?” he asks, breathless.

“We should put your clothes in the washing bag. It is fair to say my clothes also need a good washing.” 

They are simple words, straightforward. But the meaning makes her heart beat dangerously. Ben does not say anything, keeping his thoughts shielded from her. He is letting her decide.

She walks to the bank and tugs the wet clothes off. The snakes jostle as her shirt goes over her head. She removes her pants and undergarments, almost lightheaded from apprehension. 

Knowing he is blind does not remove the intimacy of the act. Not long ago, Rey wanted to avoid being naked with another more than anything else. She never imagined her desires could transform this dramatically.

After all this time, she is safe. And impatient. 

She bundles their clothes together and stuffs them into the bag. Then she attaches it to a rock downstream from them, letting the current do the work. She turns back to Ben. 

He stands stock still, arms relaxed at his sides and shoulders low. The sun seems to delight in illuminating him, all warm hues and soft glimmers. He is staggering in his resplendence.

Rey exhales as she touches his chest. Tentative only for a moment. He vibrates under her fingertips.

Ben’s hands flex. She grasps each one and clamps them on either side of her ribcage. Instantly, his fingers splay out to match the curving bones. Rey brings her hands to his chest. 

She keeps her hips separate from his, water coursing between them. Ben, already in a state of wonder, accepts this easily. The snakes are quiet enough to be forgotten.

They breathe deeply for a time. Bare and warm in the sunlight. Held and revered. 

The wind picks up and Rey comes back to their physical reality. _I’m standing naked outside with a man_. She blushes a deep shade of rose.

“I think you will need to go under so we can clean your hair.” 

His nose wrinkles but he nods. Without another thought he plunges into the water and reemerges as a blur. Ben swipes the wet hair against his head. His ears have never been more visible and the sight makes Rey smile.

He crouches near the bank, allowing her to work on the mud. It takes a while. And she’s thankful she brought a big bar of soap. Finally the black tresses are soft once more.

She sends waves of sudsy water over Ben’s shoulders and runs her fingernails against the skin of his back. His muscles convulse. Turning swiftly, he holds her arms and rests his forehead on hers.

 _No one has ever touched me like this_ he thinks, frazzled and amazed.

 _Me either_.

“May I wash your back?” he asks hesitantly. 

“You may.” She turns slowly, unsure if she is ready for the sensory experience.

As she faces away from Ben, the snakes begin gyrating around her ears. Ben’s hands are huge. The hardened texture of his palms glides over her smooth skin. He caresses the length of her back delicately, diligently. Spanning the width and breadth of her. He feels the rise and fall of shoulder to back to hip. Then he brings soap to skin. 

Tendrils of excitement and relief follow his touch. She has never felt adored. It unleashes a deep inescapable yearning. _You are beautiful_ he thinks. Rey focuses on controlling her breathing as Ben sends handfuls of water to chase the bubbles away.

Ben raises her arms to wash her armpits and she laughs. Her body relaxes further.

 _As if I could love soap anymore_ Rey thinks. 

“Why _do_ you love soap?”

His curiosity is something unfamiliar, comforting. _Who has ever wanted to know more?_ Ben guides Rey to turn as she speaks haltingly.

“I suppose because soap... removes signs of the past. Purges the skin. It is the closest thing I have ever had to becoming _clean_.” Rey realizes that she has not considered this before. But the answer comes honestly. “Plus it is fun to make.”

“Will you teach me?”

“If you teach me to cook.” 

“It would be my pleasure.”

They wash the rest of their bodies themselves. Rey makes sure to face the opposite direction. _The first time I witness him entirely will be in my bedroom_ she decides.

He hears her thought and inhales sharply, mouth agape.

“You still do not believe that I want you in my life.” Her words are chiding, kind. 

She retrieves their clothes and clambers out of the water. Ben feels for the edge of the bank and follows her. Rey swiftly hands him the clean white sheet and he wraps it around himself expertly. Then he shrugs.

“I imagine it won't ever fully make sense to me. The amount of light you have far outpaces mine. In fact, I may be the inverse of you. Almost entirely shadow.”

“We each have light and dark. Life is a blending of the two. Ben, you bring balance to my world. Can you not see that?”

Though Rey is naked, she steps into Ben’s arms. He startles at the touch of skin on skin as if he thought she was already clothed. He reels back but Rey grabs him. _I want you to hold me_. Ben eases, hands coming to rest on her lower back.

“I do like the balance. It’s offers an equilibrium, a stability I have never known.”

Rey suddenly decides she wants more. There is a shattering of air around them. He senses what she intends and his lips part in anticipation. Rocking onto bare toes, Rey meets his lips with hers.

When Rey kisses him it is both of their firsts. Ben’s hand race up her back with the impact. He sinks into the connection and they cease to breathe. An earthquake of elation rattles them both. It blazes the body and quickens the heartbeat. 

Their mouths are unsure but hungry. More than once their noses bump. Ben leans over Rey and she cranes to reach him. The snakes billow around them.

Rey is awash in feeling, a rock in a fast-flowing river. Her sigh is followed by a content sound that rumbles within his chest. He cups the base of her head, letting the snakes tickle his fingertips.

Rey pulls back to stare at Ben, his face crinkled from the most expansive smile he has given her. When at least she pulls away to dress, she can’t keep her eyes off of him.

Once she is clothed, Ben wraps his arm around her shoulders and they begin walking. The sun is high and the fall winds hint at the changing seasons. And their four feet find a new path together. 

* * *

“How can we know each other’s thoughts?” 

Later that afternoon they are setting up Ben’s shelter beside the house. She does not plan to make him sleep outside but it feels most responsible to prepare.

Rey cannot reply at first. She has a theory but she fears it may sound narcissistic out loud. 

“That would be impossible,” Ben replies simply.

She clears her throat. “I think it might be another gift from Athena. I believe she heard my thoughts during the storm and perhaps granted me a wish. To make up for what Poseidon did. Or to punish Poseidon, in a way…” The words are splinters in her parched throat. 

Ben steps forward. Taking both of her hands he points his face toward her.

“Whatever the reason, whether kindness or spite, I am grateful to Athena. And whatever Poseidon did, I am more sorry than words can express.”

Rey swallows loudly. No one has ever said that to her. She falls into him. Ben wraps his arms around her tightly, unsure where to rest his head with the snakes an emotional tangle in his face. 

Rey senses his awkwardness but also his resolution to hold her close. Her copious tears rest upon the ground between them, unable to sink into the saturated soil.

Unbidden, flashes of the assault burst in her mind’s eye. The fear, pain, powerlessness bleed into her thoughts. Ben is her witness. He chokes on the images and grasps her more intensely.

“It’s not your fault. It was never your fault,” Ben whispers to her, nearly drowned out by her wracks of grief.

Rey knows this is the first time she is truly processing the violation of that day. Despite countless breakdowns since then, it was necessary to build a wall of protection around the worst of it, to block it out. She had to survive, even if that survival entailed self-abuse and shame.

Within Ben’s arms Rey forgives herself for the harsh words and thoughts she cultivated throughout this life. With a sudden clarity, she releases herself from blame for the abandonment and violence. It is in this moment she sees that none of it was her fault. 

The entirety of her being had been shattered and put back together out of order, various pieces jaggedly forced where they did not belong. Mismatched and painful. But now, the pieces could start to settle where they once had. 

The snake crown sways languidly as she pulls back from Ben. She places both of her hands on his face, resting forehead to forehead.

“Thank you. I never thought I could truly start to heal.” She lets her flood of wonder and appreciation sweep him up, too. The mutual gratitude blossoms around them.

“You are welcome. You don’t have to carry the weight alone anymore.”

“Neither do you, Ben.”

Their kiss is obscured by a rush of lively snakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't help it. I'm adding an epilogue.


	5. Epilogue

A whole new sun is burning inside Rey, reflecting light upon everything around her. The world once full of danger, destruction, and suffering, now offers more beauty than she can process. She witnesses the pigments and textures of existence that she could not afford to before.

Now, she smiles at the simplest things; birds lancing the morning air with their song or watching the salamanders dart across tidepool rocks. She laughs, often and completely. From Ben grumbling about the stew he made, to the snakes purring when he kisses her in the morning, to how enthusiastic he is to take another frigid river bath as long as she is with him. It is such an unfamiliar thing it still startles her.

Even more, there is an eagerness to blend their lives together that has created a baffling phenomenon in Rey’s chest. As if she contains a vibrant, transfixing, and fiery meteor shower. One that lays claim to the whole sky each time he looks at her.

Rey feels the effervescent joy even when she is doing the most unpleasant things. Including this very moment. The fish squirm beneath her hand and though she takes no pleasure in it, it feels good to be providing food for the two of them.

Ben calls down from where he stands upon the cliffside. His voice is loud and travels far, even though he could simply send her a thought. Her head jerks up when she hears him.

“How is the fish-killing going?”

_Thankfully, I’m almost done_.

_I promise I will help with the next part_.

“Oh, yes you will,” Rey yells back up the cliff face. She feels him laugh.

As she climbs the rock wall, her halo of snakes bobs with very foothold and hand grasp. Rey knows the rocks well after these many years. She must still focus on the task before her. To plummet to her death just after discovering this astounding quality of love would be unfortunate.

_I agree, please be careful_ Ben thinks to her. She feels him breathing as if he wants to say more. But he remains quiet.

When Rey heaves herself up on the flat ground at last, she lays there for a moment watching filigree of clouds above. Delicate, pummeled thin by the wind, their intricate forms are milk-white patterns attached to the rotating sky.

“I love to hear how you observe the world,” Ben says quietly, sitting down beside her. She pushes up on her elbows to look at him. His dark hair is messy and his shirt has seen better days. Rey grabs his hand and kisses his fingertips.

“But maybe I don’t need to know how you see me.” Ben’s cheeks redden as he absently pats his hair down.

“Do you not know how I see you?” She comes to her knees in front of him and places her hands on his legs. “You are the kindest, most handsome, most considerate, generous, and supportive person I have ever encountered. You’re more than I had ever even imagined.” Rey’s voice is thick. 

Ben places his hands on her face and exhales deeply. _I love you_. His thought flows over her, serene and engulfing. Rey is in the tidepool of this moment. She kisses him deeply, their lips parting to know the other more. 

“I love you, too.”

When the smell of fish wafts over them, they chuckle. 

“Pity to choose fish over kissing,” Rey says as she retrieves her bag. Ben stands and grins at her.

“As long as we can continue later.” 

She darts close to whisper in his ear. “Nothing will keep me from it.” Ben leans his head on hers, shaking it in wonder.

Rey walks inside to gather the bowls and tools needed for the process. Ben follows her and stands awkwardly by the door, waiting for a task or request. His cheeks still carry the hint of blush.

Rey pauses, noticing something for the first time. _This house is not big enough for you_. It was never meant to accommodate two people, and especially not a giant of a man. 

Ben shrugs. “I cannot say I mind in the slightest.” 

An idea strikes Rey with sudden force. She conceals it quickly. Ben’s head tilts toward her, sensing the thought. But he does not ask. He respects her mind and the boundaries they have set. The snakes hiss their appreciation.

Rey divides up the items between them, then joins their free hands. It astounds her how much she craves his touch. The sheer physicality of him sends vines of pleasure twining around their hands and along her arm. Each movement, gesture, expression she marks with ardor. Ben’s cheeks color at the attention. _I know, staring again. It seems to be all I want to do these days_. He pulls her closer as they walk outside.

Rey continues to gaze at him, marking the set of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the hint of his ears through thick hair. Ben hums quietly, pretending he doesn’t notice.

“How can you look so content while gutting fish?”

He turns his face in her direction. _Because I am with you, of course_.

Rey beams at him. “What happened to your instrument, by the way? I want to hear you play more.”

“I left it somewhere in the forest.”

“Do you think it was ruined by the rain?”

“Depends on where I left it…” Then his face brightens. “Maybe if we sell some of your soap we can earn some money to buy a new one. _Fish Serpent Soap_ has a nice ring to it.” He tries to keep himself from grinning.

“That is not a bad idea. Rey as Purveyor of Goods probably would not last long, however. We would not want to kill off all the male customers. They are the ones who need soap the most.”

“Did you just make a joke?” Ben’s eyebrow is halfway up his forehead.

“I suppose it was an attempt at one.” Rey laughs.

Ben swoops close for a kiss. “It was a bit morbid but we have to start somewhere.”

* * *

That evening they walk the forest hand-in-hand in search of Ben’s instrument. Thick slanting light warms them whenever they move through a beam. As the animals ready themselves for night, Rey shares rapid details about the space. 

“This is my favorite tree. The trunk is wide and gnarled, branches strong, leaves the darkest shade of green I have seen... Right here is my favorite flower. I call it star weed, since it has tiny delicate flowers. Can you smell it? I want to use these for a soap… And over there is a large patch of those mushrooms you like.” 

Ben listens intently. He rests his palms on the stick he uses to gauge the ground.

“You are a person of the forest. Why do you live by the sea?”

Rey looks to the canopy above before she responds. Her eyes catch glimpses of the growing twilight, lush and opaque. “I always thought I should be close for when my parents came back. I never stopped believing that they would until I met you. And... I wanted Poseidon to know he had not broken me.” 

Ben reaches for her, his pained expression hurting her more than words had. He rests his lips on her forehead as the sunlight flares around them. Rey holds onto his shirt. _Now is the perfect time_. He shifts as he hears her thought.

“Maybe we should make a new home. A place for both of us. A a house that you fit in.” Rey smiles toward him. “Somewhere our family can grow.”

His delight gallops through her mind, giddy and restless. A smile breaks across her face as his cheeks inch higher.

_Is that what you want_? The thought is suddenly tentative.

“Yes,” she whispers against his neck.

Rey’s snake crown radiates around her, soaking in the last of the light and the first of this new life. As Ben’s hands caress her back, a thought erupts in her mind.

“What if our kids have snakes instead of hair?”

Ben shakes his head and kisses away her concerns.

“Then they will be the fiercest children around. And they will be as beautiful as their mother.” He pauses. “What if they are blind?”

“Then we will have to show them our love in a multitude of other ways.” Rey spots something and rushes away for a moment. “Such as playing music for them every day.” 

Ben gasps as she places the instrument in his hands. He rotates it and strums a couple of chords. “It still plays,” he says, astonished. “I will play so much they will beg me to stop.” A laugh ripples from Rey and Ben smiles sheepishly.

“You can start right now, my love.” 

They sit on moss-covered logs together. Images of a new home and tiny faces float between them, keen to be made real. As Ben begins his song for Rey, the light of sunset paints them as one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of the now eight stories I've written in the past couple of months, this has been the hardest to complete (whether that was from the difficult subject matter or writer's block/burn out, I'm not sure. Probably a combination). Thanks to everyone who has read this far! And especially those who have commented! Comments are the most amazing thing and I'm so grateful.

**Author's Note:**

> ✨Thank you for reading ✨ 
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](https://briaeveridian.tumblr.com/) where my SW obsession lives aggressively.


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